


Burning cold

by Hectatess



Category: Supernatural
Genre: #SPNFluffAppreciationDay, Fluff, Gen, One Shot, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 01:34:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12158895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hectatess/pseuds/Hectatess
Summary: Boredom makes Lucifer start a new kind of torture, but it unexpectedly turns things around for him and his brother.





	Burning cold

Snapping his fingers, he created a rubber ball and bounced it around. After only 500 times, he scoffed and the ball froze solid mid flight, shattering to shards when it hit the wall. From the corner, closest to where the ball exploded, a whimper came. “Oh shut up you!” he snapped irritably. “But that's cold!” came the whined reply. An evil chuckle escaped him, and he grinned at the figure, huddled in the dark corner. “I heard there is a new tune you could sing...” Again he snapped his fingers and the room got filled with dramatic music.

“The snow blows cold on the mountain tonight.” a clear female voice sang.

Chortling, he conjured himself some earmuffs and sat down in the oppositie corner to watch the other occupant’s reaction. First, he started at the sudden music, then he stared avidly into space. “This is actually pretty good.” the pathetic lump said. He could read his lips. The song ended, and the grimy face was actually smiling. He took his muffs off. “That was actually pretty nice, brother.” his ‘roommate’ said with a hint of enjoyment. He smirked, plopped the muffs back on, and restarted the song. The horrid expression, when it dawned on his ‘roommate’ that he was in for an endless loop, made his day.

After a thousand times, he finally got fed up and silenced the song. The figure huddled in the corner, was swaying back and forth, eyes glazed, chapped lips forming the words that his ears no longer heard. “Cold never bothered me anyway...” The once confident and powerful voice sounded cracked and wasted. An unexpected wave of sympathy washed through him. He did this. To his brother, whom he used to love without restraint and without hesitation. Anger rose in him and he exploded another ice ball against the wall. The other didn't even look up. His swaying continued and his broken voice never wavered. “The cold never bothered me anyway...” Annoyed, he got up, casting his eyes up, head in his neck. “Screw you, Dad! You made me into this! You convinced me to take on that damn curse, then you had Michael cast me down here, in this empty, dull place.”

At the mention of his name, the other uncurled himself from his corner. “Are you talking to Father, Lucifer?” he asked in his sad, broken voice. Lucifer sighed. “No, Michael. I'm not. Here.” He snapped his fingers again, and a blanket appeared. “But I don't feel the cold, Lucifer. I'm an Archangel. I don't need a blanket.” Lucifer stared at him. His vessel was filthy, and his eyes were rimmed with angry, red circles over bruiselike spots that reached over his cheeks. “It’s for comfort, brother. Please, take it.” Michael eyed the blanket suspiciously and Lucifer sighed. “I'm not going to do anything, Michael. I promise.” Michael narrowed his vessel’s grey eyes. “On your wings?” With a sigh, Lucifer reached behind his back and pulled. Holding out a hot pink feather to his brother, he nodded. “On my wings.” Michael grabbed the thing with a happy glow in his eyes. “Oh! So pretty! And it sparkles too... Is it really yours?”

Lucifer smiled at the memory. “Yes. Gabriel figured out a way to permanently paint your wings. He did it so Castiël wouldn't feel an outcast because of his black wings.” Michael sighed, and the ghost of the old Michael shimmered through. “I never knew... my Dad, Lucifer... what did I miss?” Pragmatic, Lucifer shrugged. “A fuckton, Michael. Gabriel painted his wings golden. Pretty, but still very... Mêh. So I used hot pink and glitters.” He laughed. “Gabriel once time hopped to the 20th century and he came back, laughing fit to burst. He said my wings were like a cheap stripper prop.” Shaking his head, he sighed. “Never knew what he meant, until I got topside.” Another sad sigh. “I never thought I couldn't tell Gabriel I knew what he had meant.” Michael tilted his head. “You couldn't?” Lucifer looked at his feet. Not this again... “No. I killed him before I could.” Michael gasped. “Lucifer! You didn't!” Like the other billion times he had told Michael, it hurt like he had run that blade through his own heart. “I did Michael. I killed our baby brother, because he’d have killed me if I hadn't.” Michael wrapped the blanket over his brother’s shoulders. “Why would he do that, Lucifer? He loved you.”

Lucifer grabbed the edges of the blanket and pulled them close. “Because he saw the monster I became. He died protecting his pets, those mudmonkies.” His eyes burned. “He chose them over me!” He didn't mean to shout, but he did. Michael lay a frayed, dustcaked wing over his shoulders. “Come little brother. We’ll just talk to Dad about this.” Lucifer looked up at him and remorse gnawed on his mind. “Oh Michael... what have I done? I broke you. I might as well just kill you.” Michael smiled, his vessel’s teeth eerily bright in the grime covered face. “I'm sure Father will find a way to solve this all.” Lucifer closed his eyes in pain. “I miss our old bunkbuddy, Michael.” Michael sat down on the bare floor. “Who?” A genuinely confused expression flitted over the vessel’s face. “Sam, Michael. I miss Sam Winchester.” Michael frowned. “You do? You were so mean to him most of the time.” Lucifer scoffs. “That you remember...”

Michael shrugged. “He was our only distraction for decennia... of course I remember.” His voice was soft, caring, and Lucifer wanted to lash out at him. He was getting too close. But he was also being kind and caring. Something that the Cage had been lacking so long. “Lucifer...” Michael sat down next to him, but he couldn’t look at his older brother and looked down and away. “I’m sorry.” Michael said softly. “We were each so intent on fighting with the other, that we forgot that said other was once the one being we would do anything for.” Michael hugged his knees to his chest and started to weep. “Dad only knows what damage we have caused.”

Lucifer snarled at him. “Dad? DAD?! That egotistical jackass! He made me love him, love him so much that he was the pulse in my veins, the very reason I existed. And then he just janks it away from me. I waged wars for him, I made this place, not knowing it would be my own prison, I helped him lock up our aunt... He’s like a drug. I cannot leave him be. I need him! We all needed him, so bad... he just did what? Skip out? Well, screw him.” He felt the rage run through him, burning cold and making him shiver. Frost fanned out across the floor from where he was sitting, and Michael visibly shivered. Worry, an almost forgotten thing, curled around Lucifer’s heart. “Michael? Are you allright brother?” A tendril of his Grace sneaked out to wrap around Michael’s back. Lucifer saw the angry, indigo blotches in it whirl and contract. Michael snuggled against it and warmth throbbed through it, back to Lucifer. He shied away from it, but Michael curled his own, tattered Grace around Lucifer’s and didn’t let go. That warmth just blanketed him and he stifled a sob. “I’m sorry too Michael. I’m so sorry for everything.” Michael hummed and hugged his little brother tighter with both his arms, his wings and his Grace. “We’ll be ok, Lucifer... We got eachother.”

That night, Crowley got a nasty shock. A running demon barged right into the throneroom, sweating and throwing himself on the floor. “What is it?” Crowley asked with a bored tone. “Sir! It’s the Cage, sir!” the demon panted. Crowley sat up slowly. “What of it? Michael started doing a tap routine with his songs?” The demon shivered at the thought, but regrouped marvelously. “No sir! It has begun to warm up!” Crowley swallowed hard and decided to pay a visit to a certain pair of flannel clad pains in his bum.

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this for the SPN Fluff Appreciation Day 2017. I hope you enjoyed it. It’s a bit different from most of my fics, but I kinda rolled with it.


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